Lydia Dare - A Certain Wolfish Charm

"Oh, do let me take your coat," he said mordantly.

Lily smiled. "A pleasure, Miss Hawthorne."

"Ah, Prisca, please. I insist."

"Prisca, then." She gestured to the library behind them, "Would you care for tea?"

Prisca arched one perfect brow and pierced Will with a haughty stare. "Pretty

and

polite. I can't imagine why she would waste her time with you, William."

Will looked past Prisca, down the hallway. "Where

is

Emory? Tell me he didn't turn you loose on Westfield property. I'll have to end our friendship."

"Oh, please do," Prisca countered. "My brother would do well to end his association with you." Then she linked her arm with Lily's. "Tea does sound delightful, thank you very much, Miss Rutledge."

"Lily," she offered quietly, slightly surprised by the whole interaction.

As they stepped into the library, Will followed. "Tell me, Miss Hawthorne, do you sharpen your tongue at night, on the off chance you'll get to use it on me?"

Prisca laughed, a sweet melodic sound that filled the room. "And

I

am the one who suffers delusions of grandeur? On the contrary, William, I hardly ever think of you. I heard a rumor in the village that one of Blackmoor's prodigal brothers had returned. I'd so hoped it was Benjamin."

Will stopped dead in his tracks, a frown marring his handsome face.

Prisca smiled beatifically at him, and Lily was certain she'd never met a more stunning woman. "Emory is visiting His Grace, if you're of a mind to find him."

Will glared at her and then bowed to Lily. "We'll finish our discussion later."

After he left, a genuine smile lit up Prisca's face. "Please tell me you haven't lacked for female companionship for too long. If I'd known Blackmoor had guests, I'd have come much earlier. I can't imagine they have much to entertain you with, if you've had to resort to speaking with William."

Lily shook her head. "Actually, Lord William has been quite gracious. Do you truly dislike him?" It was hard to imagine anyone could do so. She would have been completely lost without him.

Prisca furrowed her brow. "I much prefer Blackmoor, if truth be told. At least one knows where one stands with the duke."

A stab of jealousy pierced Lily's heart. No matter that she was furious with Simon Westfield, that she'd envisioned strangling him more than once that very day—she could never forget how it felt to have him touch her, kiss her, make her lose all thought and reason. Lily was certain she would appear terribly drab next to such an exquisite creature as Prisca Hawthorne.

"Are you all right?" Prisca asked, alarm in her voice.

"Yes, of course," Lily lied. Something was wrong with her nephew. She'd kissed his guardian, who threatened to take Oliver from her. Her life had been completely turned upside down on every level. "I am surprised you prefer His Grace. He seems quite unapproachable."

Prisca smiled. "You just have to know how to deal with men. God punished me with five brothers, but having them has trained me well. Do you have brothers, Lily?"

"I lost my only sister six years ago."

Prisca's smile faded. "Lady Maberley. I met her once. You've been caring for the young earl, I understand."

Lily nodded, willing herself not to cry.

"How long will you be visiting?"

Until Blackmoor threw her out of the house or forced her into a marriage she didn't want. With those thoughts, Lily lost the battle with her tears, and they spilled down her cheeks.

"There, there." Prisca said, offering her handkerchief. "It can't be all that bad."

"It's awful," Lily sobbed. Prisca hugged her tightly. "I don't even know you, and look at me… I'm crying all over you. I'm terribly sorry." She dabbed at her eyes.

"Nonsense! Whatever it is, you should get it all out."

Lily sniffed back her tears. "You're very kind."

"Don't let William hear you say that. I've got a reputation to protect."

Lily laughed.

"What I was going to ask, Lily, was whether you'd be here at the end of the week. Friday, there's a ball at the assembly room. Nothing large. Not by Town standards, for sure. But it is delightfully fun. And if you've been cooped up here with the brothers Westfield, I'm certain you'll need an escape."

A ball? Lily couldn't remember the last time she went to a ball. Years, at the very least. She shook her head. "Oh, I think not. I wouldn't have a thing to wear."

Prisca's eyes lit up. "Is that all?"

Lily sighed. "Truly, I wasn't planning on staying long at all. I certainly didn't bring anything appropriate for a ball, small or otherwise."

Prisca clapped her hands together. "Perfect. I've been looking for a project. And I love to sew. I've got a magnificent green silk. I think it would perfectly bring out your eyes. Please say you'll stay and let me make you a magnificent dress."

"Oh, I don't know." She had so many worries. A ball seemed so frivolous compared to them all.

Prisca's violet eyes twinkled. "No, Lily, you must come. If you agree, then that scoundrel William Westfield will have to escort you, and there's nothing

he

hates more than a small country ball."

"Oh, I could never," Lily began. She didn't want to make Will angry. He was her one hope at getting Blackmoor to change his mind about Oliver.

"Go ahead and agree, Lily," Will said from the doorway. "She'll never let up until you do." Then he focused his eyes on Prisca. "Do save me a waltz, Prissy."

Nine

Simon gaped at his brother. What had the fool been thinking? "Absolutely not! No balls."

"Sorry, Simon. I already agreed." Will examined his fingernails as he leaned against the wall. "That pest Prisca Hawthorne goaded me into it."

"But Friday!" Simon paced around his study. "That's—"

"The night after the full moon. I know. By then, the worst of the affliction will have passed."

"But the wildness will still remain," Simon reminded his brother. He couldn't fathom why in the world William would want to put himself in the position of being on guard for an entire torturous evening, fighting the basest of instincts. Every scent of a woman, every brush of a body on the dance floor, every clasp of a hand, even in innocence, would be impossible to ignore.

"The wildness is there

every day, Simon," Will replie

d as he clasped his hand to his brother's shoulder.

The tinkling sound of Lily's laughter drew Simon from his study. This was, of course, the first time he'd heard it since their arrival at Westfield Hall. But that sound would draw him from the depths of hell.

Simon turned the corner into his gold parlor, Will in his wake, to find Lily laughing with his old friend Emory Hawthorne and his sister. Simon had thought their neighbors had already left. He couldn't imagine why the pair was still there until he saw the look of infatuation in Emory's eyes as he gazed at Lily.

The beast rose in him once again. Must every man stare at her in such a way? "Miss Rutledge, I'll have a word with you," he clipped out. Lily and the Hawthornes turned toward him, surprised expressions on their faces, yet he did not regret his tone. She would be well served to heed his mood and remove her fingertips from Emory's hand. Immediately.

Lily raised her nose at him. "I'll be along in a moment, Your Grace." Then Emory regained her full attention.

Simon felt his hackles rise and was one step from baring his teeth at one of his oldest friends when Will stepped forward. "I imagine we'll see you at this ball your sister seems obsessed with, Emory." Will touched the man's shoulder and turned him toward the door, shooting a warning glare at Simon. Will's warning should have been saved for Emory because

he

was the one in imminent danger, Simon thought.